Harry the Scadian
by Here's2tomorrow
Summary: Almost-but-not-quite a parody/spoof. Harry was rescued from the Dursleys at a young age and grew up in a muggle family that was very... different. SCA members? This is the story for you! Everyone else? Prepare to be irreversibly corrupted. Intelligent!Independent!Weird!Harry
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: First, I own nothing recognizably Harry Potter. Second, this is a shameless self-insert. A, because it makes my heart feel good, and B, because I think the end result is hysterical. Third, for the sake of simplicity, I'm currently ignoring time setting. Eventually I'll decide exactly what years this is set in; for now it doesn't really matter. Fourth, thanks for reading! Do enjoy!**

A barely-less-than-earsplitting screech broke the rare silence in the little Giovanni home. Eddie Giovanni groaned and stood, the kinks in his spine popping as he stretched to his full, towering height. Sighing and running a hand through his salt-and-pepper curls, he ambled upstairs to answer the phone.

" _Dad! I need your help!"_

Instantly put on the alert at the panic in the young woman's voice, Eddie shot a glance at his wife who had followed him to the phone and mouthed, "Jane," before continuing aloud: "What's wrong, kiddo?"

" _I, um…"_ a vaguely hysterical chuckle escaped her, but she cleared her throat and pushed on, " _I may or may not have just legitimately kidnapped someone."_

Eddie managed a highly intelligent, "huh?" Of all the things he was expecting to hear, this was not on the list.

" _Little kid – tiny thing, really tiny… but old enough to talk; maybe two? Dad, his folks were beating the_ snot _out of him. Split lip, bleeding a little from one ear, bump on his head, stripes all over his back and butt… I'm surprised there's no broken bones."_ Under the panic was a dangerous edge of righteous fury. _"And he was living in a_ cupboard _."_

If it was possible to snap to attention when already on high alert, Eddie managed it. "Are you somewhere safe and are you still on the Isles?"

" _Yes and yes."_

"Are his folks still alive?"

" _Not his parents – died months ago, from what I could gather. His maternal aunt and uncle, and their son. I haven't touched 'em. Yet."_

"Good. Lay low; I'll pull some strings, have my friend over there contact you… Don't do anything until he calls with instructions."

" _Ok. I'll know it's him?"_

"He'll use my Society name. As soon as you're able I expect the whole story from you, young lady."

" _I know. Thanks, Dad."_ She paused. _"Gotta go; kid's having a nightmare. Work fast, please. Love you."_

His eyebrows lowered. "Love you, too, Jane. Stay safe."

Almost before the phone had clicked off, Eddie was dialing a new number.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: First, I am so sorry (I am so, so sorry), but yes, this probably will be the standard rate of updates. My job and other RL commitments take up a good 99.9% of my energy most days…**

 **Second, I was absolutely astounded by the reaction to the prologue – thank you guys so much! I have to admit my curiosity, however… you can't** _ **all**_ **actually be Scadians… can you?**

 **Well, either way, thanks again, and enjoy!**

* * *

Last time: _"Dad! I need your help! …I may or may not have just legitimately kidnapped someone."_

* * *

The old man stopped at the end of the gravel lane, checking the address painted, by a child's hand, in bright colors on the mailbox. It matched the one on the envelope in his hand. He stared up the tree-lined drive to where it curved out of sight and over a hill, and took a deep breath, both excited and fearful for the meeting about to take place. In his mind, he sifted through the last nine years and the chaos the wizarding world had devolved into after the Harry Potter scandal.

When the young boy's "rescue" from his abusive relatives had hit muggle news before the wizards were even aware of it, Albus Dumbledore knew his world was about to come crashing down around his head. His fears were realized when he arrived on the scene only to find that the Potters' muggle-world wills (they had _made_ those? Why hadn't they told him?!) had been opened and followed to the letter, a completely legal adoption had already been pushed through the system, and a muggle – a plain old entirely magic-unaware muggle (he had checked, double checked, _quadruple_ checked) – had been made Harry Potter's permanent guardian… in both worlds. The will had even included a clause about a wizarding blood adoption (though it didn't use those words), citing "religious reasons" and "fears of retaliation". And the thrice-cursed muggle had _done_ it!

Harry Potter had been adopted by a muggle and made an American citizen, and the fallout in the wizarding world had been _astronomical._ Dumbledore had barely, by the skin of his teeth and some very quick thinking, managed to hold on to his positions of power. The only reassuring aspect of the whole ordeal had been the fact that, adoptions and foreign citizenship or no, Harry Potter had been registered for Hogwarts since mere days after his birth, and the validity of that contract remained completely unaffected.

With no legal loopholes to exploit, Dumbledore had been forced to wait until Harry's Hogwarts letter had appeared on his desk, like that of any other prospective muggleborn, registered student who had moved out of country, or prospective or registered student who otherwise required personal attention. Much to Dumbledore's frustration, Harry Potter now fit all three categories.

Which is why, almost four hours earlier, Dumbledore had finished lunch and proceeded to the Ministry of Magic headquarters in London just in time to catch the scheduled international portkey to the Confederacy of American Wizards headquarters in Washington, D.C., followed by a trip via national floo to the CAW branch in Charleston, West Virginia, followed by an hour-long Magibus ride to Parkersburg, West Virginia, followed by a twenty-minute Magicar ride to the address in Coolville, Ohio.

Dumbledore straightened his robe, shook off the stress of the journey, looked at his watch, and nodded. 10AM, EST; Saturday. The most likely time to find people at home, awake, and amenable to visitors. He glanced in curiosity at the wrought-iron sign beside the mailbox, declaring the site "Homestead Historical Retreat", but, double-checking the address, strode confidently up the lane.

After almost a quarter-mile, he rounded a bend and found himself staring up at a gorgeous, enormous, colonial-style stone house, three stories high, topped with a traditional slate roof and surrounded by a great expanse of colorful gardens, complete with a tiny, gurgling stream that wound throughout the flowers and disappeared into the forest. Breathing in the fresh summer scents appreciatively, Dumbledore climbed the steps up to the gaily-painted wraparound porch and lifted his hand to the steel knocker on the front door.

Then he paused.

The note pinned to the door, written on parchment in large, neat calligraphy, read: "GONE TO PENNSIC. WILL RETURN SUNDAY, AUGUST 9TH. IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, SEE SALLY TANDREL NEXT DOOR."

The old man drooped.

* * *

Two weeks later, a slightly more haggard-looking Dumbledore returned to the "Homestead Historical Retreat". Although he had searched far and wide, called in several favours, and asked amongst his muggle contacts, he had not been able to find anything more than whispers and rumours to explain where or what "Pennsic" was, and eventually, utterly exhausted, the old wizard had given up. This time, when he dragged himself across the ocean to the home of his quarry, he carried with him a shrunken suitcase full of necessities… just in case. He was relieved to find several cars parked in the driveway and the sound of bustling activity drifting across the grounds. An identical pair of tow-headed boys, about six years old, dressed in the sort of school-boy uniforms Dumbledore remembered from his youth, answered his knock with a polite, "Hi! Welcome-"

"-to the Homestead! How can-"

"-we help you, sir?"

Dumbledore blinked, forcibly reminded of two young Gryffindors about to start their third year. "Hello, are a Miss Jane Kauffenhouser and a Mr. Harry Potter here? I'd like to speak with them."

"Who?" the first little boy asked, baffled.

"Mom and Brenny," the second clarified.

"Oh. Duh." The first boy turned back to Dumbledore. "Just a-"

"-minute, sir."

And with that, they were off, vanishing into the depths of the big house. Dumbledore could hear them calling for "Mom" and "Brenny". After a few minutes, a young woman appeared in the hall, decked out in full Victorian and trailed by two similarly-anachronistically-dressed males – one, a tall, stocky man who must have been her husband, and the other, a boy who couldn't have been anyone but Harry Potter.

"Hello," the woman greeted, "I am Jane Whyte, nee Kauffenhouser. What can I do for you, sir?"

Dumbledore, for whom it had been many, many years since last introducing magic to a muggle family, decided the direct approach would be best. "Hello, my name is Abus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and I am a wizard."

He was startled to see Mrs. Whyte suddenly straighten, eyes going comically wide as she stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head and attempted to devour himself. Her eyes left him to dart over to her husband, then back to the headmaster, then to Harry, who seemed about to speak.

"No." Jane ordered the boy flatly and sternly. He deflated instantly.

"Aww… but it would'a been fun!"

Jane opened her mouth, hesitated, then shook her head, suppressing a chuckle. " _No,"_ she insisted firmly. "Repeat the Rules, please, Harold."

Harry sighed, but dutifully did as asked. "Follow the Commandments and the Code of Common Sense, no injuries requiring more than four days' bed rest, do not involve innocent bystanders, and in all…" Harry's eyes widened. "Oh. _Ohhhh_. Right. Yikes." The boy grimaced in horror and shuddered slightly.

Jane raised her eyebrow, nodding in agreement. "And in all plots involving Grandpa," she finished for him, "refer to the posted list of Things Grandpa is Not Allowed to Do."

"But-"

Jane cut her husband off with a venomous glare, and he huffed in defeat.

"Yes, dear."

Dumbledore watched the byplay like a Quidditch match, utterly befuddled.

"My apologies, Mr. Dumbledore," Jane said. "Please, do come in. This is my husband, Thomas, and our son, Harry."

Dumbledore was ushered into a comfortable, private parlor and offered a glass of strong herbal tea, which he accepted gratefully. When they were all four seated, Mr. Whyte spoke.

"Shall I assume you've come regarding Harry's abilities?"

"You are aware of magic, then?" Dumbledore asked.

Thomas Whyte raised an eyebrow. "If that is what you want to call it, yes. It would be kind of hard not to be. The fact that our son would likely exhibit unusual abilities was clearly outlined when we adopted him, as was the chance of a… 'representative from a very special school'… coming to speak with us around his eleventh birthday. You are that person?"

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, I am. I am, as I mentioned, Albus Dumbledore – headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hogwarts is one of the premier schools of magic, located in Scotland. Harry's birth parents were both Hogwarts alumni, and they reserved a place there for Harry shortly after he was born. Most students simply receive a letter of acceptance," he said, fishing Harry's out of a pocket of his robe and passing it to the boy, who took it after a nod from his adoptive mother, "but those raised by or born into muggle families – non-magical people such as yourselves – are also visited by a representative of the school, to explain the situation and answer any questions."

"Why just when they turn eleven?" Jane asked curiously, "Why not come to explain things after the children first show signs of their abilities? Wouldn't it be easier on the families to have that reassurance and extra time to prepare?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I have been asking our Ministry of Magic the same question for decades, madam. I'm afraid that an old friend of mine was all too correct when he said that what wizards and witches gain in magic, they tend to lose in common sense."

Jane eyed Harry wryly. "I do hope," she said pointedly, drawing the boy's attention away from his letter briefly, "that my son proves to be an exception to the rule."

Harry grinned. "I didn't take nearly as long to learn the Code as Peter and Liam did, Mom," he commented. "Maybe they'll turn out to be particularly powerful wizards."

"Heaven forbid," Jane groaned, glaring at Thomas, who seemed rather excited by the prospect.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "In most cases," he interjected mildly, "if a child hasn't shown signs of magical talent by the age of five or six, it can be safely assumed that they have none."

"Thank goodness," Jane said emphatically. "One magical child should be enough for any family, I think."

Dumbledore noted with interest how Jane brushed a hand through Harry's black mop of hair to soften her words. This, indeed, was obviously a far different home environment than the one he had imagined for the young savior, had the boy remained with his aunt. Time alone would tell how much Dumbledore's plans would need to be adjusted. For now, it seemed he had some convincing to do; Mr. and Mrs. Whyte were expressing their dissatisfaction with the idea of sending Harry to a boarding school an ocean away for nine months of the year.

"Aren't there any schools near here?" Thomas inquired.

Dumbledore shook his head. He had researched all possible situations thoroughly over the past nine years. "There are only four schools of magic in the United States; the foremost is in Alaska, of all places, but there are also campuses in California and Arizona. The nearest to you is in New York. All four are boarding schools – I'm sure you can understand why. Most have similar curriculums to Hogwarts. The benefit of Harry attending Hogwarts is that, it being his parents' alma mater, he was pre-registered with all tuition paid shortly after birth. Unfortunately, the tuition is no longer refundable, and the registration is non-transferrable."

Thomas and Jane exchanged a frown. "Is private tutoring an option?" Thomas asked.

"It is," Dumbledore told them, "albeit a very expensive one, which may still require some amount of travel. If the tutors came from Hogwarts, Harry's account credit could be put towards the expense, but the scheduling and location organization could be difficult. It is possible that you might be able to find American tutors, but as I said, it can be a highly costly venture."

"What about self-study or homeschooling?" Jane asked.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, and privately congratulated himself on truly thinking of _every_ possibility. "It is an uncommon, but not unheard-of, practice amongst wizarding families. However, every case of a muggle family attempting to train a wizarding child by themselves has… ended poorly, to say the least."

Thomas took one look at the dangerous expression on Jane's face and hurriedly took over. "What, exactly, does 'ending poorly' entail, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes met Thomas' sea-blue gravely. "Typically, Mr. Whyte," the old wizard replied quietly, "it means trauma, permanent damage, or death to one or more of the involved parties."

"Ah." Subconsciously, Thomas reached out to both of his family members protectively.

After a brief silence, the boy in question added his own five cents to the conversation.

"Mr. Dumbledore, sir," Harry offered politely, "I'm sure you've had a long day, and it's getting late. If you don't have any pressing business to return to, would you like to spend the night here at the inn? I believe our Diligence suite is open. My family and I need some time to discuss our options, and we would greatly appreciate you being nearby to answer any questions. Thank you for being so considerate as to come in person to explain things to us; I am sure you are a very busy man."

Dumbledore was torn between sighing in relief and peering at the child in curiosity – that was a very mature and insightful move for such a young boy to make of his own accord.

"If that is an agreeable arrangement," he said finally, glancing to Mr. and Mrs. Whyte for their approval, "I would be delighted to stay. My schedule is clear for the next three days, as a matter of fact. And just between you and me," he added to Harry, leaning forward and tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially, "I could use a small vacation from some of the more nonsensical aspects of wizarding life."

Jane gave Harry a quick kiss on the top of his head, and Thomas rose from his seat.

"As my son said," he told Dumbledore, offering the wizard a hand in friendship while shooting a proud smile at Harry, "we _do_ appreciate you coming, _and_ staying. Harry can show you to your room; there are a few basic necessities provided in there, but if you need anything else, please feel free to ask. The bell will ring when it's time for dinner. Your room and board are on the house tonight, of course."

Dumbledore beamed at the stalwart family man. "Thank you," he said, clasping Thomas' hand in both of his own. And he meant it, too. The meeting could hardly have gone better, and Dumbledore was increasingly optimistic towards the success of his hard-won, carefully-laid plans.

And, to be perfectly honest, he really _could_ use a vacation.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I am so sorry! Life occurred and I took a several-thousand-mile road trip to my new job, where I have extremely limited internet and work 60 exhausting hours a week. I'm trapped here for the next month or so until my car is fixed, though, so I should have a bit more time for writing. I do hope this chapter makes up for the wait.**

Last time: _"Hello, my name is Abus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and I am a wizard."_

" _My family and I need some time to discuss our options, and we would greatly appreciate you being nearby to answer any questions."_

 _The meeting could hardly have gone better, and Dumbledore was increasingly optimistic towards the success of his hard-won, carefully-laid plans._

The room that Harry had shown him to, while significantly smaller than what Dumbledore was accustomed to, was more than charming, and he had easily lost himself in exploring it – and a significant portion of the rest of the second story – or the first floor – until the dinner bell had called him downstairs, where he was accosted by the wonderful scents wafting from the dining hall. Dinner at the Homestead, Dumbledore discovered, was a noisy, lively, cheerful affair with a friendly, open atmosphere that delighted the old wizard, who, privately, sometimes found himself very lonely in the wizarding world. No chance of that here; nearly twenty people were seated around one huge table, heavily laden with the sort of homemade dishes that sparked fond memories of times long past in the minds of everyone gathered there.

During the meal, Dumbledore sat beside Harry, who enthusiastically introduced him to the rest of the household. There were Stacey and Carrie, the two young farm-hands, along with seven guests: Larry, an elderly widower who, Dumbledore gathered, was a regular at the Homestead; Dan and Jean and their two pre-teen children, Max and Lucy, who were all on impromptu vacation due to a wildfire that had forced evacuation of their hometown; and Harvey and Maria, a young honeymooning couple who had intended only to stop for a night on their way to a big city, but enjoyed the Homestead so much that they rebooked their room for an entire week. Not in attendance, apparently, was Barney, another hired hand who typically helped with the guests and the housework, but was feeling under the weather and thus had retreated to his room for the day.

And then, of course, there was the rest of Harry's family. Dumbledore had already met Thomas, a stocky man deeply freckled by the sun, about 5'11", with a receding hairline, a full, rust-colored beard, and an easy laugh; and Jane, an equally stocky woman of average height, with strikingly dark sea-green eyes and long, slender, strong-gentle hands.

Although from what Dumbledore understood, Harry's oldest siblings were away for a few days, he had two older sisters present, Molly and Sariah, seventeen and fifteen respectively, both tall, slender, and silent, with thick, dark hair and eerie, light-colored eyes. The next youngest were the twins who had greeted Dumbledore earlier, Peter and Liam, just seven, identical from their strawberry blond hair and wild freckles down to their muddy bare feet, and ideal candidates for wizards, if Dumbledore remembered correctly, due to their propensity for deficits of common sense.

Next in line was three year old Jenna, who had immediately attached herself to Dumbledore, and spent dinner sitting on his lap, eating from his plate, babbling a hundred miles a minute, and staring adoringly up at him with big, grey eyes, her long, brown braid dipping itself in his food every time she turned her head.

Meanwhile, the youngest, Ellie-Anne – a blue-eyed almost-toddler with tousled, white-blond hair – sat on her father's lap, playing gently and tidily with her portion of green peas with silent, intent fascination.

The food was amazing, and after dinner the children scattered to play hide and seek (except for Ellie, who was now nodding off, curled up in her mother's lap) while the adults sipped homemade mead and relaxed at the table. No one had glanced twice at Dumbledore, except to greet him warmly and congratulate him on arriving at the Homestead. While Jane spoke quietly with her husband, the guests and staff chatted amicably with the wizard, curious but never pushing, instead including him in interesting conversations about a wonderfully broad range of topics. The company, like the mead, was friendly, deep, and flavorful, and quite suddenly, Dumbledore realized he was enjoying himself.

After an hour or so of pleasant exchange, little Jenna wandered into the room and clambered back up on Dumbledore's lap and yawned hugely. Almost automatically, the old man tucked her securely against his chest without even a break in his conversation. Jane, however, was watching them with a smile.

"Looks like the kiddies are starting to wear out," she said after a minute, when it was clear that Jenna had already dropped off to sleep. "If you'll all excuse us, I think it's time for me and Thomas to put them to bed."

"May I stay up a bit later, Mom?" Harry requested, appearing in the doorway just in time to catch the tail end of her sentence.

"Sure, sweetheart," Jane said, carefully passing a snoring Ellie-Anne to Harry, who cradled her close expertly. "Tuck your sister in, please, and your father and I will meet you in our room for a chat, ok?"

Harry turned to do as bidden just as the twins barreled into the room.

"Is Brenny staying up again?" one asked.

"We wanna stay up, too!" the other demanded.

Their mother raised her eyebrows sternly. The boys shuffled their feet.

"Please?" they asked meekly in unison.

Jane pursed her lips thoughtfully, but Thomas shook his head. "Not tonight, boys. Now scoot; go get ready for bed."

A strict glare that rivaled his wife's silenced any protests, and Peter and Liam trailed after their big brother up to the third story.

"You two certainly have a way with children," Dumbledore observed with a smile.

"As do you, it seems," Jane returned, nodding to the tiny girl currently drooling on Dumbledore's lavender suit, some of his long beard making its way into her open mouth.

Dumbledore startled slightly, removed the beard from harm's way, and chuckled. "I _do_ preside over a school with several hundred of them. However," he added, gazing at Jenna but seeing things many, many years past and, perhaps, as many years regretted, "I've never had much occasion to spend time with little ones."

Jane gathered the sleeping child carefully from the old man's lap, simultaneously passing him a cloth napkin, which he graciously accepted and began dabbing at the trail of drool on his chest. "I would tell you how much you're missing," the woman said softly, "but I don't think I have to."

"No," Dumbledore agreed quietly.

Jane smiled at him with such motherly understanding that he felt his eyes sparkle a bit more than usual, the standard twinkle augmented with something deeper.

"Harry showed you your room," she reminded, gently changing the subject, "and if you need anything, ours is on the third floor right at the top of the stairs. Please do not hesitate to come to us at any time, with any issue. Stacey, Carrie," she continued, glancing up at the two young women still seated at the other end of the table, "thank you for cleaning up dinner. Please make sure to seal the leftovers _tightly_ this time?"

Both girls nodded, hearing the command veiled in early gratitude, while Stacey, a short, rugged-looking blond, flushed slightly at the reminder, answering it with a meek "Yes, ma'am". Dumbledore watched the byplay with interest. It seemed Harry wasn't the only one this unusual personage – this _Jane_ – had "adopted".

The Whyte family and their guests filtered up the stairs, and within twenty minutes, aside from a small party consisting of two parents and one child in an attic bedroom, the entire house was silent and asleep.

The day dawned bright, clear, and peaceful, stripped of the sounds of modern life and filled instead with prolific birdsong, sleepy noises from the guests in the other rooms, a homey, muffled clatter of breakfast being prepared downstairs, and the distant yelling of the farm hands rounding up the animals for their morning routine. Dumbledore slipped from his room and down to the dining room, where he found Peter and Liam setting the table. From them, he learned that Harry – "Brenny," they corrected him, "Everyone calls him that; it's his SCA name. He's only 'Harold' or 'Harry' when he's in trouble or doing something official." – was off kitchen duty this morning and instead out wrangling in the livestock with Stacey and Carrie.

Breakfast was a marginally more sedate affair than dinner, as most of those in attendance were still bleary-eyed and drowsy. Barney, a rather scrawny young man with a rich southern accent, had emerged, pale but cheerful, and introduced himself with a hearty handshake and a smile, while Harvey and Maria exchanged hugs and tearful goodbyes with everyone, promising to return the following year and requesting frequent updates from the Whyte family and all their new friends.

Afterwards, Thomas, Jane, and Harry invited Dumbledore to the garden, where they wandered the winding, grassy paths until they reached a vine be-decked pergola tucked into a quiet corner beside a small pond.

"Mr. Dumbledore – "

"Albus, please."

Thomas nodded amiably and continued. "Albus, my wife and son and I had a long discussion last night regarding this schooling situation, and we came up with a list of concerns and questions for you, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore tilted his head encouragingly. "Feel free to ask me anything you'd like; I will do my best to clarify and lay to rest any concerns I am able."

"Thank you," the younger man said. "Our foremost concern is, in fact, the boarding nature of… Hogwarts, yes? Nine months is a long time for a person of any age to be separated from their loved ones, let alone a child of eleven, even such a mature eleven as our Brenny is. And particularly in a household as close-knit as ours, it means a lot to us to get to interact with each other on a very regular basis. How often would Brenny be able to come home or us to visit him, and what are the standard methods of travel for such a thing? Also, what forms of contact with the outside world are available to students within the school?"

Dumbledore nodded; a standard question, and easily answered. "Christmas holidays are a week long, and there are normally at least two long weekends in the first and last semesters during which students may go home. Every second weekend, third-year students and up are permitted to visit Hogsmead, the village just outside the school, accompanied by a member of the school staff, and many students meet their families there. As long as a parent is going to be present in the village, first and second year students are allowed to participate as well. The rest of the time, students keep in touch with their family and friends outside the school via post, as electronic devices do not mix well with magic.

"To answer your other question, wizarding public transportation is provided via floo, portkey, and/or magical bus or taxi services, all of which tend to be significantly faster than their mundane counterparts, as well as less costly. For a perfect example, I used a combination of all of the above to travel here from Hogwarts yesterday in under four hours, and my total costs were approximately the equivalent of five hundred American dollars."

Thomas bobbed his head side to side, considering. Jane "hmm"ed noncommittally, and after a moment said, "Our second question is regarding the schooling itself. What exactly will be taught at Hogwarts? How advanced are the standard core subjects such as mathematics, English, and science? What about extracurricular activities? Are there wizarding sports? Will he still be able to pursue his other interests, like music and foreign languages and culture and history? What about animals at Hogwarts? Will he still be able to ride on a regular basis? What about –"

"Mama!" Harry interrupted, facepalming, "Slow down!"

Dumbledore shot the boy a grateful glance; his eyes had started to cross after only the second or third rapid-fire question from the concerned mother. Jane blinked at Harry, then Dumbledore, then sheepishly muttered, "Sorry…"

"Quite all right," the headmaster consoled, reeling his brain back in and sorting through Jane's barrage of questions. "Hmm… Hogwarts curriculum consists mainly of the basic wizarding skills and knowledge, and core classes are taught as they pertain to our classes on magic. For example, two of our standard classes are astronomy and herbology, as these subjects are of direct import to basic wizarding life, but what you would call biology, chemistry, and so forth, we teach less directly within classes such as charms, transfiguration, and potions. The study of mathematics as it correlates with magic is known as arithmancy, an elective class which is offered to students third year and up. Generally, we expect students to arrive at the school with at least a basic foundation in English and improve their skills as a byproduct of their other classes, and therefore do not require further study in it, although tutoring is available to students who are struggling or who would like to advance their knowledge.

"There are a variety of extracurricular activities offered at Hogwarts, including school-wide games of quiddich, the most popular wizarding sport, as well as smaller group activities such as a chess club, a literary club, and a school choir and music group that occasionally performs at special school functions. Most children raised in wizarding households are familiar with the lordly arts of equitation and fencing among other things, and keep in practice during the school year under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch, who I suppose you might call our PE coach, of sorts.

"Mmm, what else… Ah, other interests. If culture, history, and foreign languages are your forte, Harry – excuse me, Brenny – you will be delighted to hear that one of our standard courses is wizarding history, which is rather a bit different from that taught in muggle schools, and one of the electives offered after second year is ancient runes. Also, you will find that Hogwarts, being one of the premier schools in Europe, is home to students from a wide range of nationalities, most of whom would be delighted to exchange their cultural and lingual knowledge with you. In fact, there are several spells that Professor Flitwick, our charms teacher, would be more than happy to teach you, which make learning new languages significantly easier.

"Let's see… yes. I believe I answered your question about riding, and as to other animals, all students are permitted to bring one pet. Except in very special circumstances, this is restricted to the unobtrusive wizarding pets: owls, cats or kneazles, and toads; owls being the most common, as they are used in the wizarding world to carry mail, and toads the least common, being the least useful or cuddly. As far as other animals go, Hogwarts boasts an entire farm – with which we produce most of our own food – and a large variety of exotic wizarding creatures. All these are cared for by our groundskeeper, Hagrid, with the help of several house elves, and he is always delighted to have students interested in learning about and helping with the animals. He has been known, in the past, to choose one or two worthy students to become his apprentices.

"Now then," he concluded, "did I miss anything?"

Flushing faintly, Jane shook her head. "No, thank you, you were quite thorough."

"My pleasure," said Dumbledore. Then he looked at the raven-haired boy, who had been listening with careful attention. "Brenny, do _you_ have any questions for me?"

The boy frowned. "Just one, and this could make or break it, because everything else has sounded all right so far. So, what about the SCA? I mean, is there a group nearby I can practice with? How will I get to events?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "I am afraid," he said finally, "that I have never heard of the… SCA?"

Harry sighed deeply. "Most people haven't, but I figured it was worth a try. The Society for Creative Anachronism," he lectured, sounding like a textbook which had acquired a voice, "is a world-wide educational organization dedicated to the study and recreation of life pre-1600. With kingdoms across the globe, regular meetings, and frequent weekend to multi-week events with activities ranging from armoured combat to arts and sciences, it is the largest medieval educational organization in the world and the third largest private army. Although," he added in an aside, "the first and second largest don't really count, because they're just loosely organized mercenary groups."

Dumbledore blinked. He blinked again. When he didn't speak up right away, Thomas offered, "If you can tell us exactly where Hogwarts is, it would be easy to look up the nearest group. If not, we have some contacts over there we can ask. But the real question is would Harry be able to go to the meetings and practices?"

Dumbledore thought for a minute. "I imagine," he said slowly, "that as long as he has a parent or guardian with him and it doesn't interfere with his classes, it wouldn't be a problem. Many students leave the school for a few hours on a regular basis, though it is typically the older students and usually for something much more boring, like training to take over their family's political influences. Or students with unusual health issues who require regular visits to a healer. Still, I don't see why we couldn't try it out and see how it goes…"

"Yes!" Harry whispered triumphantly, doing a small power-pump with his fist. Dumbledore eyed the motion in bafflement, but didn't ask.

Thomas "hmm"ed, and after a moment, Jane said, "I believe that was all of our questions so far, Albus, thank you. Do you mind if we take some time to process everything before we give you our final answer?"

"Not at all!" the headmaster agreed, "It is quite a bit to take in. Take as much time as you need. As I said, I don't have to head back to the school until the day after tomorrow, and as long as we receive your answer within the next couple weeks so that we would have enough time to get Harry his train ticket and help him gather the necessary school supplies, all is well."

"Thank you, sir," Harry beamed, while his father said, rising, "Do make yourself at home in the meantime, Albus. Feel free to explore the homestead at your leisure, or there is a schedule of activities posted in the great room. Just beware of the few, clearly marked restricted areas."

Dumbledore nodded graciously. "I will do that, thank you. I truly appreciate your hospitality; it is a rare thing to find in today's world. If you don't mind, I think I would like to enjoy the gardens for a while – they are so expertly tended."

Jane accepted the compliment with a smile, following her husband and son to the edge of the pergola. "I don't mind at all, Albus. Do keep an ear out for the dinner bell."

And so it was that three weeks later, young Harold Whyte, known to the Scadian world as Brenny mac Eoghain and to the wizarding as Harry Potter, found himself seated in a compartment on a handsome train called the Hogwarts Express, speeding across the English hills and into Scotland.


End file.
